


Barbed Wire Love

by thegoodthebadandthenerdy



Category: El Internado | The Boarding School (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Enemies to Lovers, Gen, Look nobody else was gonna do it so here i am, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-04-01
Packaged: 2018-10-13 04:43:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10506525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegoodthebadandthenerdy/pseuds/thegoodthebadandthenerdy
Summary: There are a few types of soulmate and enemy mark combos.- Blanks; Blanks or Clean Slates (CSs) have no marks whatsoever. Either born blank or grew out of their marks.- Double Ups; they've got the same name on them twice.- Regulars; one soulmate, one enemy.Marcos is one of these. Iván is another. Naturally, it causes issues.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Every fandom needs a soulmate au, sorry I don't make the rules

The first soulmate bond that Marcos ever saw and understood wasn't his parents. 

His parents were both Clean Slates, CSs for short. His mother had had her marks at birth, she explained to him when he was about 7, but she got older and the universe decided to let her choose. It was a lie, but as a kid, well, Marcos liked the idea of getting to choose. His father, however, was just born Blank. 

Instead, the first set of soulmates he met were an elderly couple in the park when he was four. Back then he didn't understand the significance of the bond they shared, of the words inked into their skin.

The first enemy bond Marcos encountered was when he was 13. He tried not to think about it often, because the fear would well up in his throat, and his chest would go tight with rising anxiety. It hadn't even been a bad experience - he'd only been in the same room as them - but he'd felt the raw emotiom that poured off of each of them. He'd begged his mother to take him outside for fresh air afterwards.

Just thinking about it made his side itch. That's where his enemy mark was - his side. Just like everyone else, his soulmate mark was over his heart - a tall, looping scrawl he traced late at night when there wasn't anyone around to call him down for it.

It was dangerous, they'd tell him, childish to hope for a boy that would break his heart one day.

That wasn't the general consensus on the whole enemy/soulmate thing. But for people like Marcos, well.

It was because the names that slanted over the tight stretches of skin were the same. And there wasn't any hope of them being two different boys; no, they were both written in the same slant, the same bulbous "a" and rolling "n".

Marcos couldn't help it, though. Couldn't help but _want_ him. To meet him. To know exactly why he was destined to be the best and worst thing that ever happened to Marcos.

He found himself tracing it now, almost absently, through the starched fabric of his shirt. The car jerked and swayed as they rounded corners, headed towards a fresh start.

There wasn't anyone around to discourage him from hoping now, not with his parents gone, not with his friends left behind. The only one left from before was the lawyer behind the wheel, and Marcos wasn't too keen on taking his advice at this point.

So Marcos traced, fitfully, frantically, hopefully, over and over again.

Iván, Iván, Iván.

**\-----**

Iván had never seen a soulmate bond before. His nannies growing up all talked wistfully about the boy or girl that they were waiting on, told him sweet stories about princes and castles and happily ever afters. That was the closest he'd ever been.

But Iván hadn't ever believed them, so he hadn't been that close after all.

He'd seen plenty of enemies, though. Growing up around the men that his father worked with, hate had filled his life, his home, his heart, until he could smell it, taste it on his tongue. Iván was born and bred in hate, and sometimes he let it overpower him.

But sometimes, his fingers would find the cramped writing that blossed over his chest. They'd claw at it achingly, wondering, wondering _when_ it would be his turn to feel something more than the ugly, snarling beast of hate.

He was lucky, though. At least the name on his heart, and the name just at the base of his hairline weren't the same. Though, admittedly, when he weighed the latter name on its own he was severely unlucky. Jacques was splashed in a too loud font, not even fully covered by his lone, soft curl.

When he was younger, he looked at his father like he hung the moon. He promised himself, told anyone that asked, that it was another Jacques.

But they all knew better. They all knew and they didn't do anything, they didn't even warn him.

Which was why as he got older, as the hate in him festered, he gradually began to stop tracing his soulmate's name until one day he finally tacked a band-aid over it and tried not to think about it.

He kissed boys and girls alike, blindly until he couldn't feel the ache in his chest anymore, didn't see the name patterned over his heart. 

The older he got the more the name on the back of his neck felt more and more like a brand, like a cruel joke from the universe. But he wore it with pride, snapping and snarling and letting all that hate consume him until he was just as ugly on the inside as everyone thought he was.

And now, another year of school was upon him. But he didn't care. He didn't. Not even when his chest itched with a painful twinge of foreboding. Of want.

He made sure the bandage was fastened tightly before he got out of the car, even if he was already in his three layers of uniform.

The layers weren't enough to keep his mind from whispering what could have been, what should be, no-

What would be, even if he didn't know it yet.

Marcos. Marcos. Marcos.

**\-----**

The first time Marcos saw him was on the front lawn of the school. He stepped out of the car, ushering Paula to the doors when his eyes caught on a group of kids. There's two boys, one with closely cropped hair and one with twirling curls that are basically holding each other up with how much they're leaned against one other. One girl, with long, straight hair and big doe eyes looks on fondly, while the girl next to her looks like she's dealt with enough of this to last a lifetime. And then he sees him. He sees him and he knows.

He's leaned up against the first girl, the one with the wide eyes. His elbow is pressed onto her shoulder, and his cheek is against the crown of her head, and Marcos feels sick. 

Paula looked up at him with a frown, asking what wad wrong. But Marcos just shook his head, pushing her towards the doors even faster.

His heart was sputtering erratically, the skin over his heart pleasantly warm. That contrasted sharply to the searing skin on his hip, the one that seeps anger and hate. 

Marcos doesn't know which one to choose. Doesn't know if he even has to choose right now. But something in his gut tells him he'll have to soon.

**\-----**

Iván didn't see him until he was in their room.

Roque and Caye were shuffling around one another like that's the way it had been their entire lives and Iván kind of hates it. He wants that. He wants that so bad that it physically hurts, but he doesn't know _how_ ….

They were the first set of soulmates he ever encountered personally. Sure, he'd probably bumped into a set or 20 in his life, but he knew these boys. Had watched them grow up and grow together and find one another even though they'd been together since they were kids.

He shook his head, he didn't need that. Not here, not with them a few feet away laughing at one of Caye's stupid jokes and grinning at each other like they were the only ones there.

And then Iván's heart had gone to beating a bit faster, which was…odd. He hadn't known he got so excited about unpacking. But then it hit him, the warmth blossoming outward, all the way across his ribs and into the pit of his stomach.

"Uh, hey," the boy said, startling Roque and Caye out of their loving tangent. 

Iván didn't look, wouldn't look, because that would make it real. His heart had other ideas. He looked up fleetingly - or, at least, that was the plan - but his eyes caught on a shy smile and he knows that he's so absolutely fucked.

**\-----**

Caye had known Iván since they were three. He was the first person that Iván ever willingly showed his marks to. People had seen them, but it hadn't ever been Iván's choice. 

Caye was also the first person that Iván had confessed to that he was excited for his soulmate.

That had been- that had been a night. 

Caye's parents were CSs, born blank, but they found one another and they had him and they tried to keep it together, but they'd had a particularly nasty fight and Caye was feeling a little jaded on the love front.

But Iván talked him down from choosing a loveless path. Had told him there was still good people in the world who loved and that somewhere, out there, was a boy waiting for him - surely he couldn't give up just yet? And Caye had, albeit bitterly, accepted that, it wasn't right for him to make rash decisions that would look different in the light of day.

But he still needed to focus on love, so he asked Iván, a little sheepishly, about his soulmate. And maybe it was late, or the crackle of the phone or any other number of things, but Iván seemed to light up at the mention.

He didn't gush, per se, but he did admit that it was a subject he didn't take lightly. They'd been about 12 at the time. It was just after that that he'd started spiraling.

Caye met Roque a few months later, and by the time they were 14, they were dating. Practically inseparable; where one was, there was the other. And Caye knew it affected Iván, but he tried so hard to keep him included, to reassure him that the boy he'd been so excited for when they were 12 was still coming.

But Iván started pulling back, letting the name of his neck matter more than the name on his heart. And it hurt Caye, but he stuck around, he had to. If not for Iván, than for himself. 

So that was why Caye was the first to notice. Admittedly, it took him a couple weeks to catch on, but finally, after catching Iván admiring the back of Marcos' neck in the middle of Latin one too many times, it kind of hit him.

One second, he was tangling his foot with Roque's under the desk, hiding a grin, and the next second, he realized he shared a room with his probably-best friends' soulmate.

Small world.

Iván hadn't ever actually told Caye his soulmate's name, but now, watching Iván, he really didn't need to.

Roque tapped his foot against Caye's, trying to capture his attention. He quirked a brow at his curly-haired boyfriend, his head tilting to the side just a tad.

Caye shook his head softly, enough not to draw attention to their otherwise unmonitered back corner, but enough to get his point across.

Class dismissed about thirty minutes later, and Caye watched as Iván and Marcos bumped and jostled and bit out fleeting remarks.

He couldn't help the smile that formed on his lips, pulling up, up, up to the tips of his cheeks.

Roque bumped their hips together, dragging him away from his thoughts. "What're you grinning about?" he asked with a small smile of his own.

Caye threw his arm around the shorter's shoulders. "You'll figure it out," he promised, pulling him from the classroom.

**\-----**

By the end of the first week, Iván had made some decisions.

1\. Marcos was kind of an asshole.

2\. Marcos was nothing like what he'd hoped for in a soulmate.

3\. That was fine because Iván was practically head over heels for him.

4\. #3 was a bit of a problem because

5\. Iván would never tell Marcos that he was his soulmate

#5 had come about relatively early in the week, on Wednesday, when they were getting ready for their first class of the morning.

Marcos had fallen into their group easily. He got along with Caye, and, by extension, Roque. Vicky seemed to tolerate him - which was very un-Vicky like, this early in the semester. And then Carol, well. 

The thing with Carol was that she was born a CS. So when she cast her eyes on Marcos, who was tight-lipped about anything soulmark related, she saw the opportunity of a kindred spirit.

Which was fine.

Or, y'know, it would be, if Iván didn't have to endure it.

So yes, Marcos fit well into their group. And it was problem for Iván, because it meant spending more time than necessary with him.

That and they also shared a room - which was where they were Wednesday when Iván made his fifth decision.

His daily objective had, thus far, been "don't stare at him and make it weird." And he'd done just that, except when he made the mistake of looking over as Marcos was pulling his undershirt on.

The ribbed material hadn't fallen all the way over the slant of his hip, and that's where Iván saw it - that horrifyingly familiar penmanship. 

His name. His name was-

Not on Marcos' heart. On his side. 

It all hit him a little too fast and a little too hard and he couldn't breathe, so he jerked his sweater the rest of the way over his head and stormed out the room to find a relatively quiet place to collect himself.

He bumped into the maid, María, he thought her name was. She was looking at him with concerned eyes and her voice sounded like she was trying not to spook a wild animal and he hated it-

Pushing past her quickly, he ducked down a hallway that he knew wouldn't be populated for another 20 minutes. Letting himself indulge in that information, he slid down the wall, head buried in his hands.

**\-----**

Marcos was conflicted.

Every time he looked at Iván, was even in the same riom as him, emotions roared louder than they ever had. He wanted to reach out, to brush away his shirt collar and see his name across Iván's chest. 

He wanted hope.

Some form of something that wasn't immediate indignation from the other boy. But everything he did seemed to piss Iván off, seemed to drive that wedge further and further between them. And it hurt - it hurt so bad because on one hand he was fulfilling destiny's wishes but on the other he was snuffing them out with no hope for them to reignite.

And that was scary. Because Marcos had heard stories about what happened when you were rejected by your soulmate.

Some were old wives' tales, but they carried enough similarities that Marcos had to take them into consideration.

Every day around Iván was like a damn war of emotions - of loathing and love and it was draining.

Caye was the one to finally intervene, surprisingly. Marcos didn't know him as well as he knew the rest of the group, but Marcos trusted Roque and Roque trusted Caye, which was all Marcos really needed.

Plus, Marcos was a little wistful when he saw them together - saw what a working soulbond looked like. It was sweet and it was kind - not easy, but patient. It was what Marcos had been waiting for.

Caye had tugged him aside one afternoon during gym, telling him that they were partnering up for drills.

Which was the first red flag becaude Caye and Roque always paired up in gym - or any class that required it, for that matter.

So Marcos was a little on edge. Caye held his feet down while he did sit ups, waiting for him to get a few in before he started speaking.

"So what's the hold up?"

"With what?" Marcos croaked, blaming the sudden race of his heart on the current physical activities he was enduring.

Caye frowned, tipping his head to the side like a baby bird.

"We've all seen your enemy mark, dude," he expanded.

Marcos cursed silently. "I-" he faltered. What was there even to say?

Caye waved his hand as if he could brush away the universe's truth. "It happens, it's whatever. What's more important is that soul mark you always make sure is concealed. You never cover it, so it doesn't look purposeful, but it's always covered."

Thinking back on it, Marcos realized he was right. It hadn't been a conscious effort, but….

"It's not important," Marcos mumbled. Because it wasn't. You don't get to have your cake and eat it too.

You don't get to set aside the fact that someone's your greatest enemy because they're your soulmate.

"There's some books in the library, about being a Double Up? You should check those out. Just a suggestion, but," he shrugged. "Couldn't hurt right? You're already hurting yourself by pushing him away."

Marcos hadn't realized just how astute Caye was - and he was a little ashamed that he hadn't.

"Didn't realize you were so invested," Marcos finally grumbled. And shit, that sounded like a confession. He didn't want anyone to know. He wanted everyone to forget, really. 

"Iván's an ass, but he's been my best friend for over a decade," he replied by way of explanation.

Marcos wasn't entirely sure how to reply to that.

"Look, I'm not gonna sugarcoat Iván for you, if you wanted that, then you should've gone to Carol. But I am gonna tell you that he's been waiting on his soulmate for a long time. Whoever they may be," he winked, before pushing up to stretch his muscles. "Now, c'mon, we got laps to run."

**\-----**

Iván wasn't stupid, he saw Caye talking to Marcos during gym, he knew it was about him. Not in a self-centered, everything-revolves-around-me way, Caye had literally told Iván it was about him when asked.

"Cayetano," Iván bit out. "What did you say to him?"

Caye shrugged, a lazy smile on his face. "We talked, friend-to-friend. Oh, sorry, right, you don't know what that means: a friend is someone-"

Iván bumped their shoulders together. "Shut up," he grumbled bitterly, pushing his sleeves up to his elbows.

Caye hooked his thumbs through his belt loops. "Good news is I gleaned some information. Bad news is I respect what my friends tell me in confidence. But hey, hypothetically speaking: just give him some time. He's working through some issues, but he'll come around. Hypothetically, he wants to come around, so hypothetically, I'd say don't sweat it."

"Hypothetically, I'm gonna kick your ass if you don't quit meddling," Iván muttered, though there wasn't his usual heat behind it.

"Shh, the universe loves it when I meddle."

Iván couldn't help it, it was reflex when Caye made a smart ass comment. He reached out, popping him not entirely gently on the back of the head. "My love life is already fucked, I don't need you puttering around in it."

"I'd ask why you're hitting him, but knowing the both of you, I'm gonna ignore it," Roque muttered, coming up beside Caye.

"Babe, listen, I need your opinion," Caye began, gesticulating his free hand wildly enough that Iván moved away, though still reluctantly tagged along.

"What?" Roque asked warily - smart.

"Does the universe not love it when I meddle?"

Iván clicked his tongue. "This is a completely biased opinion. Where's Vicky-"

"Oh yeah," Caye nodded, giving Iván an ok symbol with his hand. "Like she's not completely biased either."

"So you admit that Roque's input is biased?"

"Uh, yeah? That's the whole point," Caye grinned, ducking another one of Iván's pops.

**\-----**

Marcos hadn't looked at the books Caye suggested. Definitely not. Because that would mean he was considering a…something with Iván. And Marcos hated Iván. Because Iván hated Marcos. So a something was obviously off of the table. 

Not to mention the whole enemy thing.

And since Marcos didn't look at the books, there was no way Héctor caught him. And if Héctor didn't catch him, he wasn't in the middle of a very heartfelt conversation with the older man. Obviously.

"I didn't know you were a Double Up," Héctor hadn't said.

"You didn't ask," Marcos didn't reply.

Héctor didn't laugh, and he didn't hold his hands up in surrender, and he didn't say, "Okay, okay, fair enough."

"I never knew…it was so common," Marcos didn't softly continue.

Héctor didn't nod, didn't frown a little, didn't put his hand on Marcos' shoulder and say, "Well it must be a relief then, right? Now you can learn how to manage it."

Marcos didn't sigh, didn't stealthily put his hand over the passage in the book that read as follows:

_While a Cancellation Bond, sometimes referred to as a "Double Up," can be balanced, but it is extremely difficult to do so. One thing that makes these bonds so difficult is if the scales are tipped in favor of one bond or the other, they can't be corrected, which can cause side effects for the Double Up. This is especially true in cases of the Enemy Bond being the chosen bond._

**\-----**

Iván wasn't really sure how he ended up here. In the context of his life, he'd never considered that he wouldn't be his soulmate's soulmate. He'd never considered that he could and would fall so hard and so fast for the boy with the cramped handwriting that he pressed his fingers to unwillingly when he was overwhelmed. 

He'd never considered that he might have to give him up, for both of their sakes.

The months had trickled by agonizingly slow, with heated deabtes that quickly turned into fights, rough bumps in the hallways, shouting, threats, goading.

Iván gave as good as he got, of course, but that may have something to do with the fact that he didn't know how to give anything else. That festering bubble of hate he'd grown up in, thought he'd escaped, was still calling all of the shots of his life, it seemed.

And he hated it. He hated it so much. Because one second he wanted to kiss Marcos and he wanted to be as happy as all the other damn soul bonds he'd witnessed over the years, and the next second he wanted to punch him in the face, wanted to feel nose bones crinkle under his fist. And that wasn't right, he knew that wasn't right, but he couldn't help it. 

And now, here he was again, shouting and invading space that wasn't his and hoping to get a rise out of the boy that took his heart without knowing it and never gave it back.

Iván didn't want to be here. He had two weeks of break for the winter holidays coming up that he would no doubt have to spend with his father and his father's lackies. He wanted these last few days of peace, of just being around Marcos, even if they weren't…together. He wanted so much - a little too much for the universe's liking, it seemed.

"I've got three days 'til winter break and I damn sure don't want to have to endure your pissy little attitude for the rest of them, Marcos. So either fucking do what you came here to do or leave me alone."

Marcos' features shifted into that stone cold look that Iván knew so well. "You say winter break like it's a chore to go off traipsing around the continent on your father's dime. Do you know what my sister and I get to do? Stay here because we don't even have a family to go home to. So don't dangle your little vacation over my head like it's the worst thing that can happen to you."

Iván barked a humorless laugh. "Oh, you think it's easy? Sure, I'm on boats or I'm skiing or I'm off doing God knows what on my father's dime, but don't pretend like you even know what I've got going on. You ever looked at the back of my neck? Huh?" he slapped the back of his neck for emphasis, something frantic in his eyes. "Have you ever seen the name branded across me? Jacques. My father. So don't even begin to act like you know the first damn thing about me, just because the universe thought it'd be hilarious to stick us together in sone fucked eternal buddy system!"

"Well at least you can distinguish friend from foe! I got stuck with the same fucking name slapped across my side and my heart and neither of them matter! I've lost everything, even the cosmic promise I was born with."

Oh.

 _Oh_.

Iván carded his hands through his hair wildly, looking Marcos up and down and trying to figure out how he'd been so stupid, how he'd messed this up so bad, how he hadn't considered that option-

"I'm leaving," Marcos whispered.

Iván had heard a lot of tones from Marcos. There was hate, fear, elation, comfort, sadness - but Iván had never heard his voice so soft, so broken.

And it was all Iván's fault. He cursed, "Marcos, Marcos wait," he called, but he was too late, Marcos was already gone.

**\-----**

They didn't talk about, it might as well have not even happened. But there was something between them now, an icy sort of tension. Everyone saw it, Marcos knew. Caye, with his furrowed brow; Carol with her tooth-bitten lip and her constant state of worry; even Vicky, who frowned more than once at Marcos, and even glared a little at Iván.

But soon, Marcos didn't have to worry about it, because they were all gone. Iván had pulled Carol along on vacation, Vicky was going home, and so were Roque and Caye. It was just Marcos and Paula.

Honestly? Marcos was kind of grateful.

**\-----**

Carol burrowed her hands deeper into her sides, wrapping her arms around herself like it would actually do anything against the cold. 

Iván stoked the fire gently, watching the burning coals with heightened interest.

"So, are you just not going to respond or?" Carol asked, pursing her lips.

"Well," Iván began, from where he was crouched in front of the fireplace. "If I don't acknowledge it," he brushed his hands off on his pants, before popping back to his feet and giving Carol a dry smile. "Then eventually, you have to give it up."

She laughed, low and sweet. "Iván you know me better than that. Or maybe you don't? Either way, I'm not giving it up until we talk about it. You brought me out here, you've barely talked about anything other than the weather, honestly, when will you get it through your head you can trust me?"

Now it was Iván's turn to purse his lips. "I trusted you once, and I still do. I just don't want to have this conversation with you."

"Is it because it's Marcos? Or is it because I'm Blank?"

"Carol, that's not fair," he muttered.

"No, what's not fair is what you're doing to that boy! Not to mention what you're doing to yourself. I'm a statistical anomaly, Iván. CSs occupy only hundreths of the population. So I know, on some level, what Marcos is going through. It's confusing and it's scary and you just want someone to guide you through it, or to just stand by you. 

"Damnit, Iván, you don't realize how lucky you are! You could be there for him and know that you're not giving your heart to the wrong person, but instead you're throwing it away because what? You're scared? He loves you, loves you twice as much as anyone else, and you'd give that up because of the name printed on his side? I think what you really need to consider is would he throw you away because of the name on your neck. Think about that. I'm not kidding."

She sighed, looking disdainfully between him and the fireplace. "I'm going to bed," she finally proclaimed.

Iván scrubbed his hands over his face tiredly, then through his hair. Dropping down in front of the fireplace, he watched the licking flames as they gnawed away at the logs he'd provided them with.

**\-----**

Marcos was in his bed, trying not the let his mind wander. But his fingers kept wavering over his heart and he couldn't help it and Iván had been gone for a week.

Damnit, damnit, damnit - Marcos missed him.

He swore to himself that he wouldn't let it get this far. Wouldn't let himself fall this hard.

His fingers danced across the familiar script. He didn't even have to see it anymore to know which way the I slanted or how the n flared up at the end. 

"Marcos," Paula muttered from beside him.

He jerked out of his thoughts, a strange twist of guilt in his gut. "What're you doing awake?" he asked.

She'd had a nightmare, and begged to come stay the night with him - and he couldn't turn her down if his life depended on it.

"Are you sad?" she asked a few minutes later, after she'd settled in beside him.

He blinked slowly at the ceiling. "Uh, no?"

"Oh. You seem sad."

"I'm not sad, Paula. I'm just…dealing with big kid stuff."

"Is it about Iván?"

Pause.

"Why do you think that?"

"Because you have his name right here," she pointed to her heart. "And right here," she pointed to her hip. "And you seem sad about that. Do you wish his name was only on you once?"

Marcos sighed. "Yes."

Pause.

"If you could pick, where would you want it?"

"Right here," he whispered, tapping his chest.

**\-----**

"Could you be any more obvious?" Carol asked, stepping off the bus and bumping Iván's hip with her own.

"With?" he asked, frowning down at her.

She pursed her lips. "We've been back for all of three minutes, Iván, take it easy."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

She rolled her eyes. "You act like I can't see your eyes flicking around looking for _him_."

Iván flushed a brilliant shade of pink. It crept up from under his collar and curled back around his ears in a matter of seconds.

"I'm not," Iván protested weakly.

" _Right_ ," Carol nodded slowly, dragging the word out.

"Whatever," he muttered under his breath, shoving his hands in his pockets.

She looked him up and down, before settling on his eyes. "Go find him."

"What?" Iván asked incredulously.

"Just…" she waved her hands around in a way that was neither here nor there. "Go find him, talk to him. You've been blabbering on about him all break, it's safe to say you're a goner. So, go talk to him!"

"I'm not seeking him out the second I get back from break I'm not _desperate_ , Carol."

She gave him a knowing look. "So his face isn't the only one you care about seeing right now? You could go another week without seeing him or hearing his voice? You'd _prefer_ not seeing him to seeing him?"

He shifted on his feel uncomfortably. "Well, I wouldn't go that far…."

"Just go find him! I'll come after you in half an hour or so, so if you've gotten into a fight and one of you is mortally wounded, I'll be able to call for help. Win-win. Now go before I find Vicky and make her glare at you."

Iván weighed his options - rolling his tongue over his teeth. "If I die I'm coming back to haunt you specifically. Also Caye - but yours won't be fun."

Carol huffed, bangs lifting off of her forehead before resting again. "That's fair. Now go!"

Iván retrieved his bags, taking one last look at Carol before setting off.

The farther he walked down the familiar halls, the more steam he lost, until he was standing outside his door, hands gripping his bags so tightly the blood had drained from his knuckles.

Marcos was sitting at the foot of his own bed, just under the window, reading a book. He looked up, having heard Iván's approaching footsteps. In a rare feat, he gave Iván a small smile before turning back to his book.

And that was all Iván needed apparently, because the first words to tumble from his lips were, "What does you Soul Mark say?"

Marcos' eyes snapped up wildly. "What?" he asked with wide eyes and a wane voice.

"I-I, uh, I said: what does it say?" he repeated.

Marcos closed his book slowly. "Why does it matter?"

Iván dropped his bags, shaking his hands nervously as his tongue darted across his lips. "Because it does, Marcos."

"You can't just come in here _demanding_ -"

"I've got your name," he blurted, drowning out Marcos' soon-to-be tangent. "On my heart, it's your name."

"That's just fucked up, Iván," Marcos said, discarding his book in favor of getting to his feet. "Even for you, that's just a shitty thing to say."

"I'm not _joking_ , Marcos-" he snarled, unable to keep the anger out of his voice. "I've been waiting my whole life for you and I'm _sick_ of trying to figure out if you've been waiting for me too."

So, he hadn't meant to say that out loud.

"This isn't _funny_ ," Marcos hissed, and Iván could see the reflection of tears in his eyes. "You don't just come in here and, and do this when you've probably got Carol's name on your chest-"

"Carol? You think I've got _Carol's_ name? She's fucking Blank Marcos! And incredibly gay!"

"What?" 

"Every damn person in this school knows that she's been dating a Blank girl from back home for nearly 2 years, and you thought that her name was _my_ Soul Mark?"

"Show me your Soul Mark," Marcos whispered, then, "Please."

Iván tugged his jacket off, discarding it on his bed. He roughly undid the top two buttons on his polo shirt, his fingers trembling as he did. He tried to calm himself down, but the adrenaline washing over him was making it hard.

He tugged down the fabric, exposing the crisp lettering dappled over his skin for the boy in front of him to see. 

Marcos stepped forward, his eyes only taking a moment to register the name.

Iván had imagined a lot of scenarios in the event of he and his soulmate realizing they were, in fact soulmates. The immediate cursing hadn't ever figured in.

"Why the fuck didn't you tell me?" Marcos finally concluded.

"What, before we got into the fist fight or after? What about the million times we almost died? Should I have slipped it in over dinner or when we were going at each other's throats, Marcos? This is the cloest you've let me stand near you in _months_ , so sorry that I never told you!"

"You don't get to do this! You don't get to blame me for all of this, Iván! I've been trying, I've been trying so damn hard to even be in the same _room_ as you-"

"Am I that bad, Marcos? That horrible?"

"I'm a Double Up! Damn it, Iván, I've got the same name on my side and on my heart and it's yours and I'm sorry that I'm not dealing with it in a way that's acceptable to you," Marcos expelled the words like they were sour, a terrible taste on his tongue.

Iván's chest constricted - he'd known, somewhere, deep down, God, of course he'd known, but _hearing it,_ hearing the words….

"Can I see it? Your Soul Mark, I mean," Iván murmured, trying to catch Marcos' ever shifting eyes.

Marcos' lips trembled, but he nodded, unbuttoning the two buttons of his shirt and tugging his collar down. 

Iván approached him warily, shaky fingers reaching for the other boy before he could stop himself. He paused, just an inch or so from Marcos' chest. "Can I?" he asked.

Marcos nodded, and Iván let his fingers hit skin. Marcos was warm, and Iván could feel the steady rhythm of his heart under his fingertips. Before he could think better of it, his hand was on the back of Marcos' neck, and he was pulling the boy in.

Marcos buried his nose in Iván's shoulder, snuffling loudly, shoulders shaking. Tears leaked out of Iván's eyes as he pressed his face into the side of Marcos' head, nose deep in the boy's hair. His palm was flush against Marcos' chest, and he could feel his steady heartbeat, feel his heaving shoulders, feel his emotions.

"I'm sorry," Iván whispered. His lips moved against soft hair, and his eyes closed peacefully.

"I'm sorry I didn't find you sooner," Marcos heaved into Iván's shoulder, his arms almost lazily around the boy's waist. "I was so scared. Scared that you'd hate me, for having your name twice? Or scared that you had to go through what I went through, and were a DU too."

Iván took a shaking breath. "I could never hate you. Which I say with authority, because trust me, I've tried," he laughed weakly.

But Marcos wasn't laughing. "But I could," he said quietly. "I'm _fated_ to, Iván - I, we, cant. We can't. It's a stupid idea, and someone's going to get hurt and I don't _want_ you to be hurt because of me, but a small part of me does. That's not me, but it's still a _part_ of me and I can't _do_ that to you!"

Iván extracted his hand from in between them, using it to bring the boy in front of him in closer. Marcos was close to sobbing, not quite, but just about - and Iván wasn't that far behind him. God, if he felt like this, what was Marcos feeling?

"Marcos," Iván whispered into his hair. "Calm down before your hyperventilate - I don't want to have to explain to Jacinta and/or Héctor why you mysteriously passed out the first day I'm back."

He made a wet noise, somewhere between a hiccup and a laugh, but nodded, his breathing still hitching deeply in his throat, but getting better.

"You know we don't have to be anything you don't want us to be, right?" Iván asked, a rare note of maturity tinting his voice. "And if you're just content to hate me for the rest of our lives, then I'm okay with that too."

"I want to figure…something out. Some kind of arrangement, because I like, I like having you around. But if you tell anybody I said that I'm never speaking to you again."

Iván huffed a laugh. "Whatever you want."

 _Because I've already got everything I need_.

**Author's Note:**

> This is something I've had in my drafts forever that I decided to polish and post. 
> 
> I've got a character study (of who I won't say ;) ) in my drafts that I need to finish, but after going back over this I remembered how much I love Carol and how much I need to write something for her ahhh


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